I am still working on this - really! I'm sorry it's been so, so long since I last updated. Ack. EDIT: I'm sorry if breaks aren't showing up between transitions. I've tried fixing them a few times, but it's not going well.

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"Did it touch your skin?"

Mary stared at Bash dumbly. "What?"

"The plant, did it touch your skin?"

She looked down at the flattened green mass and felt her heart drop. "Yes ... my hands and ... my backside." She could not bear to look at Bash. Was there no limit to her humiliation?

"Mary," he began slowly, "it's going to be okay, but I need you to listen to me and do what I say. Can you do that?"

She nodded her head but still could not meet his eyes.

"I want you to go to the creek, take off your clothes and get in the water."

Her head snapped up. "What?!"

"You need to rinse off the poison before your skin absorbs it."

"But-"

"There isn't time. Go. Now." Bash was calm, but firm, dousing any hopes that he was playing a cruel joke.

Mary pushed aside her knee-jerk reaction to fight orders and made her way to the creek mindlessly. This couldn't be real. She couldn't possibly be having this ridiculous experience. But once she let her now bare feet touch the frigid stream and sharp rocks, she couldn't deny reality. She was simply a disaster.

All she wanted was one night, just one night, of fun and freedom from responsibility after two months of upstanding decorum. And this little break could cost her everything. If Catherine found out she had been alone with Bash for the night, she'd probably say Mary had gotten the rash from rolling around with him. The engagement would be broken, she and her family disgraced and Scotland would lose their strongest ally. She might even lose her crown.

Shedding her dress, Mary sat in the shallow stream and started splashing water all over herself while wallowing in her misery. She wanted her mother. A protective arm around her telling her everything would be alright. It was a silly thought. She'd never gotten that from her mother. She hadn't even seen her in years.

Mary closed her eyes tightly and took deep breaths. You will be alright. You are made of strong stock. She had been a target since she was six days old. Her world would not collapse over a poisonous plant. She needed a plan ...

"Mary?"

She looked up to see a large brown square at the edge of the trees. For a moment the strange sight made her wonder if she was still drunk until she realized it was Bash holding up a blanket infront of himself to obstruct his view.

"Are you finished?"

Under better circumstances, Mary might have laughed at the muffled sound of his voice behind the blanket. "Yes." She stood up and headed towards Bash and the open, welcoming wool.

"Any symptoms?" he asked as Mary backed into the blanket and wrapped it around her.

"I'm too cold to tell," she answered, turning to face Bash now that she was fully covered.

Automatically, he starting rubbing his hands up and down her arms to warm her up. "We won't know for a few days if it worked, but hopefully it will at least temper the reaction."

Mary gave a weak smile, only to stumble on the rocks and fall right into Bash's chest. "Oh!"

He grabbed onto her, holding her in place. "I have you."

"I know." For a brief moment, Mary forgot everything as she could only see his comforting eyes and feel his arms securely around her. It was like that night on the patio all over again, right down to her bare feet. And then she remembered herself. "I mean, I can see that," she amended, gathering her footing and putting some space between them.

Bash looked at her discarded dress unhappily. "You'll need to wear my change of clothes."

Mary followed his eyes to the rumpled garment on the slender bank. "What?"

"The cloth can carry the poison and there's no time to wash it. Your shoes, too. I'm afraid I don't have spare shoes, though, so you'll need to be careful where you walk."

He said this so matter-of-factly, like it was a regular occurrence, while Mary remained in disbelief as the absurdity of the situation continued to grow. Over the course of one day, the Queen of Scots had become a drunken, drooling, diseased, cross dressing disaster.

"Mary?"

She turned her attention back to her companion. "Yes. Of course." Of course.

As Bash went back to the horse, Mary stared at the dress wistfully. The stories it could tell. It wasn't all bad. She had enjoyed the taste of freedom greatly; she was simply paying an unfortunate price.

Mary tried to make the chemise and pants Bash brought her work. She felt exposed in the thin, much too large shirt and laced it tightly to the neck so her breasts would not be easily exposed. Rolling the shirt sleeves up was not difficult, but the same could not be said for the leather pants which bunched awkwardly and made the large crotch area even more uncomfortable. She was as inconspicuous as a proud peacock.

Bash looked over the finished product without comment, but Mary unleashed his laughter when she attempted a mock curtsy. "Ever the trendsetter, Your Grace," he said with a bow.

"Indeed," she said with a smile. "I guess I'm ready."

"I ... think it would be best if I carried you to the horse."

She swallowed hard. "Yes, that makes sense." Perfect sense.

Mary hooked her arm around Bash's neck as he easily swept her up. She could not keep her body from tensing as he carried her through the woods. She was determined not to enjoy this closeness.

"Are you alright?" Bash asked as he set Mary down gently.

"Yes," she said with a sigh. "This little hiccup has actually helped to distract me from the hangover."

"I'm glad there was one positive that came out of this then. Do you still need to ride with me?"

"If you don't mind. Perhaps I can sleep off a little more."

Bash gave a nod. "Let's go."

They halted, the castle grounds having just come into sight. "You'll need to ride in."

Mary lifted her head from his back miserably, but mustered an agreeable sound. She'd lost her will to maintain any sense of royal air and posture somewhere along the journey.

He gently helped her down from the horse, his hands still securely around her waist as he grinned. "Fortunately, you're already disguised." He reached down to rub his hand in the dirt. "But I think your face could use a little work."

"What do you mean?"

He leaned into her, his tone hushed, "You're too beautiful." And with that he began to gently apply small smudges of dirt to her face.

Her small stature still exposed without her shoes, Bash nearly towered over her. She felt childlike as she looked up at him with nothing but trust. His expression was now serious, but his soft touch was so inviting that Mary had to stop herself from leaning into it.

She couldn't help but close her eyes as he ran his fingers through her hair before mussing it up and tying it back. Who knew getting dirty could feel so lovely?

"Am I disheveled enough?" Mary asked somewhat mockingly once Bash stepped away to inspect his work.

"Put a little dirt on your shirt," he suggested.

"You're enjoying this too much," she accused as she did as instructed.

"Just a little." He helped her back onto her horse with ease. "Should we come across anyone, keep your head down and act miserable."

Mary nearly snorted. That would be easy.

An urchin Bash had come across on his ride in was the explanation for her presence. Apparently this was not an unusual thing for Bash to do: bring in an unfortunate for a few meals, a bed and some menial tasks to earn their keep.

"Your last one stole my hat," a stable worker said with a scowl on his hard, weathered face.

"Who would want your things?" a younger one scoffed.

"Exactly! That's a degenerate for you!"

"You owe this one a debt of thanks," Bash snapped as he stepped forward. "He was bringing back a horse you lost."

"No, sir! They were all secured by nightfall. I checked each stall myself," the man protested.

"Then you would have been the one to blame."

He shook his head stubbornly. "I'd bet my blood he stole it!"

Mary stayed near the horse letting the shadows hide her features, not daring say a word as they argued.

"This is Queen Mary's favorite horse. How do you think she'd respond if she found out her horse was stolen on your watch? Do you think she'd be so charitable as to excuse you of any fault? Perhaps I should ask her."

She watched the man's expression sour further before taking the reins with a grunt and leading her mare away.

"King Henry will be quite pleased to hear that you've returned," the remaining hand said timidly. "Shall I alert him?"

"No. I need to get this boy situated first."

The man gave a short nod and scurried off before Bash turned his attention to Mary, the sternness not yet wiped from his face.

"I've never seen you so forceful before." Despite the sense of familiarity between them, there were still things she did not know about him.

"When the occasion calls for it."

"I hope it's never directed at me," she teased.

Her comment brought back his boyish smile. "No, I'd like to keep my head, thank you."

"Good. Shall we?"

Bash nodded and they set off for the castle.

The trek back to the castle was mercifully uneventful and they arrived at Bash's room quickly. He was clearly used to sneaking around the castle and knew every entry point and tunnel. Finally they found their way to Bash's room.

It was as small as she remembered, but it now had a stale smell from it's lack of use. She was glad that would no longer be the case.

Bash set his satchel on the floor with a thud. "I take it you can find your way to your rooms from here?"

"Yes, thank you." She headed for the door then stopped. "I'm glad you were there at the tavern."

"Happy to be of service," he replied.

Mary wanted to correct him, to tell him she was simply happy to see him and was not speaking to his assistance, but she stopped herself. "Good day, Bash."

And with that she slipped out of his room and down the hall to the next passageway. The day was far from over.

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